


in the mood for love

by asolitaryrose



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Settings, F/F, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:58:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3694928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asolitaryrose/pseuds/asolitaryrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela's life hasn't been easy, and despite the hardships, there's one thing she never lost sight of: her quest for freedom. That she found love somewhere along the way was unexpected - but definitely not unpleasant. Isabela's life and encounter with Hawke in a modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the mood for love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brookweed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookweed/gifts).



> I hope I did your prompt justice and that you're satisfied with the result, dear wintersend prompter! Isabela is a character that is really dear to my heart, and it was my first time writing her. The modern AU setting was just the thing I needed to spark my inspiration uwu

**1.**  
Her early years are spent running barefoot through the streets of the little Indian port overlooking the bay of Bengal, playing pirates and chasing treasures, greeting fishermen with enthusiastic cries of delight at the sight of the still-living fish, and engaging in the occasional feuds breaking through the ragtag group of children known as her crew. 

She remembers little of that time, so far it is buried into her memories. The warmth of the sun on her skin. The laughter of children playing in the streets. The cooking pots in the kitchen whistling and steaming. The spices always hanging in the air. Her mother humming to herself while working, the sound of the sewing machine filling their little house. And above all, the call of the sea, its smells and colors, the way the ocean changes with the light, the rain, the storm. Ever-changing, yet ever-constant. Isabela's childhood is spent nearby the sea, and its smell lingers in her hair, on her skin, under her nails; it is already a part of her. 

She loves watching the luxury liners gliding between the waves, the horizon their destination. She wonders where they go, and if one day she might be able to go there, too. She wants a ship of her own, someday.

 _"All life arises from the sea"._ Those are the words she keeps close to her heart, the ones her grandmother used to whisper to her at night, when Isabela was no more than three springs old. Little hand would sneak into the wrinkled one, and two pairs of golden eyes would watch the stars in the sky to a backdrop of sappy Bollywood musicals playing on TV. 

**2.**  
As she grows, so does her body. She discovers boys are easily duped by a pair of pretty eyes and a flirty laugh. She learns how to smile as if to whisper an unspoken promise that they alone are the recipient of. She revels in the power it gives her - she has little agency in her own home, and the game she plays with them makes her believe that she can be in control. She never lets them lead the pace of the dance or how far she wishes to go. 

One morning, mother and daughter go to the market together, and Isabela catches an eye that she can't shake off like the thousands before this one. The man is not from here - his tongue rolls the words in a way Isabela would find almost charming, if she weren't too distracted by the hands that are trying to sneak their way on her rear. 

The stranger is rich, it seems, and perhaps a little bit of a magician; as soon as the rupees are out of his pocket, her mother cannot hold back her tongue, she who barely speaks three words to her daughter on her good days - and those are mostly rebuttals. Isabela swears it's the first time she hears so many compliments coming out of the mouth of the woman. She would laugh, if she wasn't the price for which the bills had been needed in the first place, and the honeyed words the reward for such a generous offer. 

For good measure, the man adds a goat, and soon she finds herself on a plane after a hasty marriage, en route for an unknown destination, far from her homeland and her family. The words have no meaning anymore; her mother sold her for a handful of notes and an animal she doesn't need. She would cry, but she cried too much already, and the plane is no place for tears. It's her first time flying, after all. She closes her eyes, and imagine herself with wings. It's almost as good as feeling the sea spray on her face. She longs for the sea, and she keeps her eyes on the window, anchored to the ocean she can see down below. 

**3.**  
Marriage doesn't suit her. Marriage to Luis doesn't suit her at all. Oh, he buys her many fine things - golden necklace, diamonds, brand new Iphones, an expensive car - everything she wishes, he gives her. He can afford it - his business is flourishing, and certainly not legal by any laws existing on this earth. She cares little for what he does outside of the house, however. She likes him better when he's not near her. 

Not that he mistreats her, but she almost wishes he did, because what he makes her do is even worse. She's the _entertainment_. Luis is ever the generous business partner: when one of his "friends" is in town for business purposes, he offers a night at their house... with Isabela. 

"Such beauty and sensuality should be shared... wouldn't you agree, pet?" 

The endearment tastes like ashes, because it is what she is, a docile animal he uses as he wishes and cherishes in all the wrong ways. She supposes there are worst lives to have, though. It's hardly surprising he treats her like he does - he is a merchant craving fine and rare things, collecting them and displaying them to show off his wealth and power. She's simply part of his assets. 

She _does_ have nice assets. 

At least life in Naples is exciting. The city is always bustling with activity, and has amazing beaches. Providing she leaves the house with Luis, she can dance to her heart's content while he drinks his expensive wine. On those nights, they almost look like any other married couple. Their lovemaking afterwards reminds her that they aren't. 

**4.**  
She comes back from the market one day and finds his body sprawled in the living room, blood slowly dripping on the luxurious carpet he brought back from one of his trips God knows where. The assassin is still here, and doesn't seem surprised to see her. 

"You could have at least killed him elsewhere, I could have sold that thing - it's worth thousands of euros."

The man laughs, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. Does he wonder why she's not afraid? Or was he expecting her to be saddened by the death of her husband?The thought is so ridiculous that she almost chuckles. She offers him wine. She never much liked the beverage, and the rare bottles of red that Luis bought from one of France's finest cellars aren't going to drink themselves, certainly not now that he's dead... and he seems like a man of good taste.

The assassin is named Zevran. He's from Italy, too, but she could have guessed with the heavy accent when he speaks English. His tongue rolls the words the way Luis' once did. They spend hours chatting, Isabela crouched on the couch, the man next to her. It's almost like having a friend, and the Italian is good company - he regales her with hilarious stories, and soon they both forget about the body in the next room. 

She offers him her bed that night. There is something about him that draws her in, and despite his occupation, he is the epitome of politeness. Their lovemaking isn't like anything she's ever experienced - there is respect and affection in his touch, his kisses, in the way he looks at her. It's the best sex she's ever had so far, and when they're done, she silently vows to never go to bed with anyone she hasn't chosen for herself. People made the choice for her much too often already. 

He leaves the following morning, but she knows she will see him again. He gave her a number she can call whenever she needs help. He wasn't clear on the details on what that "help" might be, and Isabela smiles to herself, wondering when this stranger became her friend.He gave her back her freedom, and for this alone, she will forever to grateful.

 **5.**  
She leaves Italy behind her - it is the land of her enslavement to a man she never loved, and it has nothing to offer her now. She avoids the embarrassing questions, too.Better not be around when the police start wondering why a dead body decorates her kitchen, a bullet through his head. Might give them the wrong idea, if she's still around to be questioned. She can hardly say that not only does she know the killer, but she knows him in ways that would make any pious women blush a most delightful shade of pink. 

Luis was a collector of fine things... which he acquired through unofficial channels, and then sold to the highest bidders. The authorities call it "antiquity smuggling". After his death, Isabela took over his business... and became pretty damn good at it, truth be told. Her favorite part of the job is that she gets to make up her own rules. She's the boss, "Captain", as they call her, and she likes the title. To complete the role she plays, she buys a ship, fulfilling a promise made to the little girl who used to run along the piers of an Indian port, dreaming about the horizon, all those years ago. 

Traveling comes with the job. She never stays in one place long enough for the cops to catch up with her. She takes her pleasure where she can, sharing moments of bliss with men and women alike, learning the language of bodies against bodies and soon mastering even its finest points. It is a language of touches and kisses, of ushered moans and cries of abandon, and she never tires of speaking it. Practice makes it perfect, after all, and Isabela is nothing if not a perfectionist, if the whispers of the sheets are to be believed. Her lovers all leave her bed with a satisfied grin dancing on their lips. She would have it no other way.

For years she keeps up this routine, until one day she finds out the cargo she’s transporting isn't the precious Champa artifacts she thought she purchased in Vietnam, but a load of human slaves, to be sold throughout the world - most of them women. She doesn't even think twice before releasing them - that's not her business, and that's not who she wants to become. She was little more than a slave once, and it is a fate she wishes on no one. 

Of course this doesn't sit well with a few of her business partners - mostly those with an interest in the trade in the first place - and suddenly she finds herself with a couple of too well-informed cops on her tail. She has to move again, and this time, she leaves quite a significant portion of herself behind. She loses her ship, and that loss hits her the hardest.

 **6.**  
Her travels end in Istanbul - she figures she'll be left alone for a while if she lies low, and she's always loved the place. The city sits astride two continents, and there is a kind of cultural and religious melting pot here that she finds familiar, almost comforting. Perhaps it is because she never felt herself belonging anywhere, and the fact that Istanbul can be so many things at once makes it seem like it never really is quite the same. Hence the ease with which she fits in. 

She buys a little place in Kadıköy that she calls _The Siren's Call_ , in memory of the ship she lost. If she can't be at seas, at least a bar is the next best thing, and bar tendering isn't quite so bad when you're as good with your tongue as Isabela is. Clients soon learn their place, and business is doing well. She hires a waitress named Merrill whom she instantly calls Kitten - the girl is as sweet as a honeyed juice, and takes to the city rather well, considering she'd never been out of her little hometown before. Isabela makes sure no client ever touches her without her consent, and even so, she never lets it go too far. She's seen enough of the evils of men to completely trust these strangers with sweet, gentle Merrill. 

Life is dreadfully boring, however, no matter how lively Istanbul can get, and Isabela finds herself staring more and more often at the horizon, far beyond the Bosphorus. She resumes her former activities and uses the bar as an underground cover for smuggled antiquities. It helps keep the business afloat, and adds a little spice to her daily grind, but it's still not enough. 

Until one day, a woman named Hawke introduces herself. She's seen her a couple of times in the bar - as she is never as drunk as the other regulars of the establishment, she can't help but stand out. Isabela likes the cheeky smile and raven hair, the ever-alert blue eyes. From what she can understand, she's some kind of journalist working as a correspondent from some big newspaper. Investigative work, she calls it. Isabela doesn't really care for the details, but she's pretty sure the woman isn’t here for the bar business... but the other business she keeps quiet. Well, bully for her then, because Isabela isn't in the habit of giving away her secrets without making it a challenge first. 

Hawke seems like the kind of woman to enjoy a good challenge. 

**Epilogue.**  
Her life started near the sea - it is only fitting she returns to it, again and again. The ocean is her freedom, her way out, the never ending road on which she's free to roam, bound by neither laws nor men. There used to be a time where solitude didn't matter much, and the roaming was done with only herself for company. 

Now everything is different. Turns out the dark-haired woman does like challenges - so much that she accomplishes a feat Isabela would never have thought possible: to have her fall in love. Hawke is nothing if sneaky, really, and it's Isabela's own fault for not paying attention - she freely admits she was distracted by other attributes.

It is easy to fall in love with Hawke, though. The woman has a way of drawing people in, of making them hers. She hides her big heart under sarcastic wits and easy smiles, but Isabela sees right through her. Perhaps because she is not much different. 

They found another ship to replace the one she lost. Nothing fancy - it's barely more than a floating shell - but it is theirs, and the _Sea Wench_ takes them wherever they want to go. She is at sea again, but she's not on her own anymore. It's strange, to be able to rely on someone else than one self, but she's far from complaining. Her nights are much more pleasurable now that she has someone to share her bed on a regular basis. 

There are days she can barely believe how good life is. That somehow the little girl from India despairing to ever be in charge of her life and her future is the woman she is now. She wakes up every morning next to the coiled body of her lover, the gentle breathing of the woman tickling the hollow of her throat. She had no idea love could be so sweet. She hungers for more. 

She doesn't know how long it will last, but she doesn't really care. Hawke tells her it's forever, and she's inclined to believe her. The woman can make the impossible happen - she knows this firsthand.


End file.
